Not quite broken
by lisadawes
Summary: Spoilers for the end of Red Dead 1 and 2. Micah had kept one or two secrets from John. And in the end, so did Arthur. A possible alternate ending to the game. Story concluded!
1. Secrets we carry to the grave

John watched in astonishment as Dutch unloaded a bullet into Micah, who fell. Finally, after all these years, the bastard was done with. "Thank…" he stammered. "Thank you-"

But Dutch walked past him, and simply left, his job seemingly done. Had he been planning this from the start? Or did seeing John simply wake up his conscience? Before John could dwell on it for too long, he noticed Micah moaning nearby. The bastard was still alive. He lifted his gun. "You've lost, Micah, and now it ends for you," he said. "Painfully."

"It doesn't matter," Micah said, grinning. "I won…"

John frowned. "You're dying, right here and now. Doesn't seem like winning to me."

"It is. I accomplished my end goal. The end..of the Van Der Linde gang," Micah said, smiling slightly.

John frowned. "So Arthur was right. You were working with the Pinkertons!"

Micah laughed. "Arthur? He never got it right. The Pinkertons were just a means to an end, John. No…I was an O'Driscoll, so many years ago. Colm was my brother. One that Dutch never knew about."

John stepped back, shocked.

Micah focused a little and glared at him. "Dutch always thought Colm was an idiot, but we were playing you every step of the way."

"No. I saw you fighting O'Driscolls!"

"A necessary subterfuge, friend. I had to play the role of the eager new member, doing anything I could to earn Dutch's trust. At the same time, I was whispering plans in Dutch's ear. Nearly got you all killed Blackwater. I was a well-kept secret. People like Kieran never saw me. But in the end, I was the one who gouged his eyes out." He grinned blood at John. "You should have heard the screams."

John was tempted to blow his brains out right then and there. Only curiosity stayed his hand. "Arthur got wise to you though. He saw through you!"

Micah coughed up blood. "Oh, yes. Poor, dumb Arthur." He laughed.

"What do you mean?" John raised his gun. "Tell me what you mean!"

"I was playing Dutch all them months, John. You don't think I was playing Arthur at the same time?"

John hesitated. "What are you talking about, Micah?"

"All those weeks thinking he had TB….and all I had to do was put a little poison on his stew every now and then." Micah looked up at him. "I needed him weak. The strong…eat the weak."

"He never had TB?" John whispered. "But a doctor…"

"Doctors can be paid off. I made sure of it," Micah said dismissively. "It was easy enough. Followed him to town one day. Watched him collapse. Another O'Driscoll led him to the right place to get his 'diagnosis'. Didn't figure he would go off and help redskins soon afterwards. It worked out better than I could have imagined."

John couldn't help but shake his head. "Was it all worth it, Micah? Colm 's dead. Dutch and Arthur watched him hang."

Something registered in that statement. Micah sighed. "I suppose I'll be joining him soon enough. But I never lost sight of what Colm needed me to do. Plenty of the Dutch Van De Linde gang will be coming to hell with ne. First Hosea had to go. He had Dutch's ear the most. Lenny. Kieran. Mrs. Grimshaw. Then Arthur, though we had some fun in the end. Him and me. He was a good escape plan. I do feel sorry that I never had a chance to kill Dutch. I was close. You were next John. You and Jack-"

John shot him through a head. Then he shot him a few times for good measure.

That was satisfying. And finding the Blackwater gold was even better.

PART TWO

Later that night, Charles escorted Sadie to a doctor. While they were gone John went to work burying the dead and disassembling the camp. It was hard, grueling work. It was towards the end of the day when he started working on Micah's camp. The man didn't have too many personal items but found a journal in the bedroll. He flipped it open and began to read next to the fire.

Reading Micah's journal was reading the pages of someone truly insane. Half of it was rambling about Dutch and Arthur. The other half was completely the opposite. Micah being hurt when Mrs. Grimshaw yelled at him. Feeling bad when a job didn't get done right. Other pages were just random scribblings. _Seems like being in camp was affecting you, O'Driscoll_, he thought to himself. He flipped towards the end.

_I didn't kill him. I had him completely at my mercy, but I didn't kill him. The bastard still thinks he's better than me. That smug look in his eyes. Poison would kill him eventually. I forced the goddam antidote down his throat. Made sure he choked on it. _

_He isn't broken. Dutch isn't broken. Both of then killed Colm. Couldn't prevent it. They were gone before I arrived back at camp. They have to pay for that. Properly. Couldn't keep him for too long, though. Plenty of army about. Ended up giving him to the Murfree Brood. They have their ways of changing a man and owe him some payback. I told them to keep him alive, but to drive him insane. Maybe when I have Dutch back in my control again, we'll see how things are going. Morals don't last too long in a place like that. Either way it'll be a good card to have in case Dutch ever gets wise to me._

John snapped the book shut as Charles approached with Sadie. Both of then were heavily bandaged. "Charles," he said hesitantly. "Are you absolutely sure you buried Arthur?"

"Body was burned," Charles admitted. "But yeah, I am pretty sure it was him."

John held out the open page. "Because I've seen some evidence that might contradict that."

Charles quickly read the page and swore.

"Let me see!" Sadie snapped, then paled. "We need to head over there."

"Are you sure you can ride?" John asked.

"Stop fussing over me John! I've had worst scrapes. Besides, it's Arthur. If those bastards still have him, there's going to be hell to pay."

"All right," John said. "Then let's get some rest. We'll need it."

PART THREE

The next day they rode hard and fast to the Murfree Brood's camp.

Charles broke the silence. "John, if the Murfree folk still have him after all these years…like the book says, they have ways of changing a man."

"I know, Charles. We might we might have to end his suffering. Jesus, it's like the situation with Uncle all over again!" John swore, riding faster.

"Can we think in more optimistic terms? Arthur is still alive. Micah didn't kill him. Let's start with that," Sadie said calmly.

"I could not have shot that bastard enough times," John said.

"He certainly was insane," Charles agreed.

They were near the Murfree Brood's camp. It was getting dark. John looked around. "Let's get on that ridge," he finally said. "It'll give us a good vantage point."

They climbed up and hitched their horses. John took out his binoculars and searched around. Sadie and Charles did the same.

Nothing. No sign of any camp. Or people. Just a rock canyon.

"Does anyone see anything?" Sadie finally hissed.

Charles grunted a negative. "No one has seen the Murfree folk in years. Maybe someone wiped them out."

"Like Arthur?" Sadie asked hopefully.

John lowered his binoculars. "Something doesn't feel right. Let's see if we can find some clue as to what happened."

They approached the area. John kept one hand on his holster. The whole area had been swept clean and there wasn't any sign of a camp. Any clues were long gone. John sighed.

There was a sudden snap of a match. "Did you really think the Murfree folk had me after all this time, Marston?" A familiar voice asked to his right. Arthur was obscured in shadow behind a tree.

Sadie's eyes widened. "Arthur!"

"I'd thank you to keep your distance, Miss Adler," Arthur said. "I beat these devils a few years back, but they left their mark. I mean it, Sadie."

"Oh nonsense, I-" Sadie approached, then her eyes widened as she studied his face. She shrugged a little. "Just means that you and John have a few more things on common, that's all."

"Is that why you couldn't be bothered to tell us you had survived?" John asked angrily. "Your _goddam _vanity?"

"No," Arthur sighed. "Hell, I was never pretty to look at. Micah was alive and becoming even more of a threat. When we were a group, John, trouble always followed us at every goddam corner. It feels right, being scattered. I kept tabs on all of you, of course. I even stopped by your new ranch or twice, John. If Micah had made a move on any of you, I would have returned from the dead, believe me. But until then, I was content to leave things well enough alone."

"Until we made a move first," Sadie said.

"Oh, Miss Adler, with you leading things, I was never too worried." Arthur pitched his cigarette. "But I was keeping a close eye on how it played out."

John frowned. "So…what have you been doing all this time?"

Arthur gestured at Charles. "I live with his tribe, or rather what's left of them. After the damage Dutch and the army did…well, I can never fully repay them. But I do what I can. It's a peaceful life."

"_What_?" Now John was insulted. "You've spent all these years helping Charles' tribe, and you never bothered to tell him you were alive?"

"Oh geez, Charles. I'm sorry. I must be a horrible friend," Arthur said with fake sincerity.

John turned to Charles, only to see a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Wait, you knew?"

"Of course." Charles smiled. "Did you really think a burned body would fool me, John? I'm the one who rescued Arthur from the Murfree Brood."

"A very bloody night, to be sure," Arthur said.

Charles nodded. "It was."

"John, look." Arthur finally stepped out of the shadows, allowing him to get a good look at him. "I appreciate what you did. Ending things with Micah. Finding me. Charles told me while he was at the doctors, and I decided to meet. But I'm fine. Honestly. It's best we still keep a low profile. The Pinkertons are looking for us. They won't rest until they hang someone for Cornwall's death. So thank you…but it's best for the world to think I'm still dead."

John extended his hand. "All right."

Arthur took out a slightly disfigured hand and shook it.

"But you're not a ghost to me anymore. The next time you decide to lurk at my ranch, for crying out loud knock and come in. And talk to Mary. I know she still thinks of you."

Arthur laughed. "She'll have nothing to do with me."

"You'd be surprised. I used to say the same thing about Abigail." Remembering something, John went to his horse and took out a pouch and tossed it to him. "This will help."

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"From the Blackwater job. I think that was your take. Plenty of money to help you with Mary. And the tribe."

Arthur chuckled. "John Marston…you are full of surprises. Thank you. Sadie."

She hugged him. "Keep in touch, okay?"

"I will," Arthur promised, gripping her tightly. "Both of you, watch your backs."

They said their farewells, and John mounted his horse, feeling a little lighter. They both rode back in silence towards the ranch for a while, when something occurred to him. He glanced at Charles. "Wait, so you knew there were none of the Murfree folk still around! You were just egging me on while we were on horse."

"Well, I had to have a little fun while we were travelling," Charles said with a hint of amusement. "But I was trying to prepare you, John. Arthur was different after the confrontation with Micah. We all are, in the end."

"That son-of-a-bitch tried to destroy all of us," John agreed. A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

"But he didn't quite succeed."


	2. Dead man's game

Thanks miXIZ! I wasn't initially planning too, but I can probably expand on this for a chapter or two :)

Arthur watched as Charles, John, and Sadie rode off, before releasing a sigh. They were fools, all of them. This wouldn't end with Micah. He had tried to explain it to Charles once, but he couldn't understand.

Arthur mounted his horse, thinking of the past. _Charles…I'm so sorry._

FOUR YEARS AGO

Charles moved, quick and silent like a shadow as he approached the Murfree Brood's camp. It was raining, obscuring any noise he made. The bastards had found themselves in a deep cave not unlike Beaver's Hollow. Getting in and out would be tricky.

There were only a few of them guarding the front. Swiftly he took out two with throwing knives and grabbed the third by the hair. "Show me where Arthur is," he demanded.

The Murfree folk giggled. "He was being bad. Bad boys get what they deserve."

Charles didn't like the sound of that. The insanity of the Murfree folk unnerved him. "Show me," he ordered.

The Murfree escorted him into the cave. Fortunately it was around midnight, and most of the torches were out. They were able to maneuver around the patrols easily enough. They climbed up a ridge, and the Murfree man gleefully pointed downwards.

Charles looked down, swore, and slit the man's throat in one motion.

The roof the cavern had a small split in it, permitting rainwater to fall through. Arthur was lying on the ground, soaking wet with rainwater. Small puddles had formed underneath him. It didn't help that it was bitterly cold tonight. He wasn't moving.

There were plenty of people near him. Some sleeping. Some weren't. Charles didn't think he could get through them all. Not without a prolonged fight. There had to be a better way.

Charles glanced to the right. The horses were inside in some kind of makeshift indoor pen. Unlike Arthur, they were far less guarded.

Perfect.

PART TWO

As far as escape attempts go, that could have gone better.

Arthur lay in the pool of water. The Murfree folk hadn't been happy with him after he tried to tackle the guard, had mangled his hand to the point of uselessness. They had been careful to make sure it wasn't his shooting hand, however. Micah, the little rat, still had plans for him after all. He could still hear the bastard's mocking voice in his head. Telling him surprise, he didn't have TB after all. How he hoped Arthur enjoyed his 'new home' and maybe he would stop in later.

The days that followed next were nightmares.

Best Arthur figured, Micah wanted him to break. To plead with him to be let out and do anything, even betray Dutch a thousand times over. On the plus side, Arthur was pretty sure the Murfree folks would accidently kill him long before that happened. They weren't exactly the best at keeping prisoners alive.

At least, he hoped so. It was better to die, then to keep bearing through any of this.

Suddenly a Murfree shouted and pointed upwards. Several of them ran upwards. With some difficulty, Arthur turned around in the water to see what they were looking at.

Somehow the horses had gotten free and were fleeing the cave.

There was a flash of movement, and the remaining two Murfrees guarding him were dead. He felt a light tap on his shoulder. "Charles?" he said in disbelief.

"Hang on," Charles cut the ropes binding him, and lifted him up. Arthur instantly started to shiver. "How long have you been in that water?"

"Days," Arthur managed to say.

Charles cursed. He spotted a nearby campfire and dragged him towards it. "We'll rest here for a moment, then escape."

"No." Arthur gritted his teeth as the warmth hit his bones. Steadied his shooting hand. "Charles, the things they made me see….this world is better off without them."

Charles hesitated. "Are you sure you're up for that Arthur?"

Arthur picked up a gun beside a corpse. "I'm sure. Even if it's the last thing I do."

It was a long and bloody night, but Arthur and Charles shot every member of the Murfree gang. Some of them died screaming. Others died laughing. When the ones who ran after the horses came back, Arthur shot them too. He watched silently as Charles stacked up the bodies. It was over.

"Bastards don't even deserve a burial," Arthur muttered. "No one should remember them."

Charles grabbed two horses. "Come on," he said. "We can clean this out later."

They rode hard and fast out of the cave. "Where are we going?" Arthur asked. It was getting progressively harder to think.

"Someplace safe," Charles replied.

"That sounds nice," Arthur said. Home. Pearson would probably have some fresh stew going. Dutch would be reading a book. Probably Hosea as well. "Real nice."

Arthur didn't notice blacking out and falling out of his saddle until it was too late.

PART THREE

"_Don't do this," Arthur had pleaded. They were forcing him to watch as a young girl was about to be killed and eaten. Hopefully in that order. "Please."_

_The Murfree grinned and pointed a knife at him. "You shut up," he said. "But if you want to join us, maybe things will be better for you. Fresh food. A warm bed. Think on that." _

_The next thing Arthur heard were her screams._

Arthur bolted upwards, next to a crackling fire inside a tepee. Several blankets had been piled on him.

"You're awake, Mister Morgan," a familiar voice said. The elder and chief of the Wapiti tribe. "And alive."

Arthur looked around, confused. "How long was I out?"

"Three days. You had hypothermia, among other things. You also dreamed. Most of them seemed bad."

"They were," Arthur said. "But they're just dreams."

"I assume it is safe to say your new 'friends' left a lasting impression," the elder said, handing him a glass.

Arthur looked at his reflection and took a deep breath. Just dreams. Just scars. "I'm not even going to ask how Charles found me."

"He didn't say. But I am sure you have noticed by now that young Charles has many talents."

"Thank you," Arthur said. "For looking after me."

The tepee opened, and Charles entered. "You're awake," he said.

"I owe you," Arthur said.

"You helped my tribe. I would say the score is about even." Charles shrugged.

"What will you do now, Mister Morgan?" the chief inquired.

"I don't suppose Micah managed to die in the time I was held captive?" Arthur said hopefully.

"No. And from what I've seen, he's started a new gang. One worse than ours," Charles said bluntly.

"Will you go after him?" the chief asked.

"No," Arthur sighed. "No…I think I've had my fill of revenge."

"You didn't seem to feel that way at the Murfree camp," Charles pointed out.

"That was different," Arthur stated. "They were a menace. Wiping those bastards out saved lives."

"So would wiping out Micah." Charles challenged. He frowned. "I didn't expect you of all people to embrace pacifism. Or is it cowardice?"

"What do you want from me, Charles?" Arthur snapped. "To start a new gang? Because that's what it would take to go up against Micah. Maybe I should start recruiting some of the Wapiti tribe? Whoever is left?"

"Gentleman, enough," the elder soothed.

Arthur shook his head. "It has to stop, Charles. Otherwise, I would be no better than Dutch. Revenge is a dead man's game. And I want to live "

"You know what I think, Arthur?" Charles stood, disgusted. "I think Micah broke you more than you care to admit. You're afraid of him." Without waiting for a response, he left.

"For what it's worth, I think you made the right decision," the elder said. "What will you do now?"

"I…honestly, I'm not sure."

The chief grunted. "You are more than welcome to stay with us."

"Really?" Arthur asked. "After everything we put you through?"

"There is much work to be done, and you have proven to be more than capable. You can help us heal. And perhaps, we can help _you_ heal."

PART FOUR

For Arthur, time seemed to stand still.

Once his hand recovered to some measure of use, he spent his time hunting. Fishing. Doing what he could to build a communal hall. The other Native Americans were polite, but distant. It suited Arthur just fine.

Charles would often travel. Arthur knew that his friend was still looking for his place in life, and often wandered. He would bring back news of what was happening to the other gang. It took some time, but Charles eventually accepted Arthur's decision, and his desire to remain dead to the other gang members.

Arthur himself would travel at times. He only made the mistake of going to St. Denis once, which quickly ended when people recoiled at his appearance. It was funny, considering how he had been once invited to a high-society ball. But he went to other places, as well. Valentine. Strawberry. Even the former gang hideouts. He always bought a paper, just to keep on track with current events.

But for the most part, he lived off the reservation. It was then he started to notice that he was catching the eye of one of the female natives…Aiyana, he was pretty sure her name was. She always seemed to be out and about whenever he was working, or bathing in the stream. _Come off it Arthur…she can do better, _he thought to himself in amusement as he settled into the teepee.

"Arthur!" a male voice cried out. Instantly he was on his feet, reaching for his gun. The men never called out to him for help.

"Mister Morgan, come quick!" The elder demanded. Arthur exited the tent, ready to fire on anyone or anything.

A man strolled into camp with two officers in tow. A man Arthur sincerely never hoped to see again.

"Hello, Mister Morgan," Agent Ross said.

TBC.


	3. A promise between friends

Arthur stood still, one hand on the butt of his holster. There were plenty of Pinkertons in the area, but plenty more of the tribe. Things could get ugly really fast. "Hello Agent Ross," he returned. "I can't say I'm pleased to see you."

"Indeed. The feeling is mutual."

"How did you find me?"

"The last of the Van Der Linde gang is never too far from my eye, Mister Morgan, and perhaps a few members of this tribe aren't too thrilled to have you here and let it slip that you were still alive. I must say that I was surprised, though, to hear about your resurrection. I almost didn't believe it and had to verify it personally. Yet here you are. Leading an upstanding life, no less. Of course that doesn't erase your crimes."

"We all have crimes to answer too," Arthur sighed. "You shot my friend just to make a point. An old man who was unarmed!"

"Lest you forget, Mister Morgan, you shot my friend as well!" Ross hissed, his smugness breaking. "You will answer for that one day, believe me."

"Why wait?" Arthur challenged. "We can solve things with our guns right now. No one else needs to be involved!"

"A duel?" Ross smoothed out his shirt. "Of course a savage like you would recommend such thing. No, no, Mister Morgan, that's not why I'm here." His smugness returned. "Besides, if I wanted to hurt you, I can think of a few ways to do it. The tribe's claim to this land, for example, is on very shaky ground."

"Don't you threaten them," Arthur snarled, stepping forwards. "This is between you and me, Ross. Tell me why you're here "

Ross shrugged. "I'm here to offer you a job."

Arthur wasn't sure he heard correctly. "Excuse me?"

"You and other members of your gang seem content to lead a citizen's life, Mister Morgan, but others are not. People like Bill Williamson?"

Arthur nodded slightly. "I read the news."

Ross grunted. "The man is now an even greater menace, forming his own gang that rape and murder at will. He has to be dealt with, along with other former members. Micah. Javier. And of course, Dutch. The fact that most believe you to be dead would certainly give you an advantage in this regard. And in exchange, we help you keep living your fine, outstanding life as a model citizen. Your bounty will be, shall we say, forgotten. So, what do you say?"

Arthur stepped forwards again, his grip on his pistol tightening. "I'd say you can stick your job where the sun don't shine."

Ross stared at him in disbelief. "You're still loyal to Dutch, after everything he's done to you?"

"I could give a crap about him! Or Bill Willamson!" Arthur snapped. "It's just the thought of working for a rat like you makes my stomach queasy."

Ross sighed. "Think about this offer carefully, Mister Morgan. It won't come again. For you, or your friends."

"Your threats are getting real tiresome, agent," Arthur said. "If you're going to try and kill me, then get it over with! There is no need to involve anyone else!"

"Kill you?" Ross blinked. "Good god, no. Let's not be dramatic, Mister Morgan. There are…shall we say, other parties who might be interested in this assignment. Other people who may become upset if we take any action against you. Your answer disappoints me, but you are hardly worth my time."

Ross' eyes narrowed. "But it goes both ways. Keep being a good boy, Mister Morgan, and stay out of everyone's way. Don't get involved in our affairs. If you decide to become a problem for me, I will be back. And like I said, I have ways to hurt you, and these…savages. Ways that would make what happened to you at the Murfree camp seem like a summer holiday."

He gestured, and the Pinkertons left. Arthur released a held breath.

"Unpleasant man," the elder said, as the other warriors went back to their tasks.

"Chief," Arthur said, turning around. "Whoever told Ross that I was here-"

"Hmph. Not sure if I believe that. This Ross fellow likes to put knives in places where he thinks they'll stick. But you can rest assure, Mister Morgan, that if they had tried to arrest you today, they would have had a fight on their hands." The Chief looked worried. "Still, he may be back one day."

"They always come back," Arthur said. "Goddammit."

PART TWO

Not long afterwards, Charles had met up with John Marston and Sadie, and told him their intention to hunt down Micah. Arthur sighed in irritation at this. It was the same old argument between them, only now Ross had him under a damn barrel. "No good with come out of any of this, Charles."

"Maybe the fight's gone out of you, Arthur," Charles responded. "But not us. We need closure."

So Arthur had kept a close eye on things. He had been on the opposite ridge, watching with a pair of binoculars. He watched as John Marston shot Micah. "Burn in hell, you bastard," he whispered in satisfaction.

Not long afterwards, John had discovered a few secrets in Micah's camp, including the fact that Arthur was alive. So, reluctantly, Arthur had made arrangements to meet, and they talked. He watched them say their farewells and rode back to the Wapiti tribe.

The elder was making some coffee and glanced up as Arthur approached. "Is it over, Mister Morgan?"

Arthur nodded. "For now."

PART THREE

The next six months were not Arthur's best.

There had been a few bright, shining moments in them. Despite John promising to keep his secret, letters inexpiably came in from Tilly, Pearson and Mary-Beth, all of whom were mad at the subterfuge and relieved to see he was still alive. _John and his big mouth_, Arthur thought in amusement, and wrote back to them. He also wrote to Mary. The reception back was surprised, but also cold. As Arthur suspected, that door was closed.

Abigail and John Marston finally wed for real. For a rare time, Arthur left the tribe and attended John's wedding. It was a beautiful affair, and wonderful just to sit with some of his old gang, and talk.

It was also on the night that things started to go wrong. After dinner, Arthur stood outside on the porch and lit a cigarette.

Charles stepped outside. "Arthur," he greeted, lighting his own cigarette.

"Charles," he returned.

Both of them studied the empty field. "You feel it too, don't you?" Charles asked.

"Yep. We're being watched," Arthur said. "Do you think it's Dutch?"

Charles sighed. "I don't know…but I doubt it. Dutch hasn't been seen in years. No, someone has been watching this place for the past few days. Whoever they are, they don't seem to want to make a move."

"Pinkertons," Arthur sighed softly.

"It's good to see your instincts haven't failed you after all these years," Charles said.

"I learned from the best," Arthur said. "You knew I was there? When John shot Micah?"

"Of course," Charles said with a smile, but it soon faded. "I'm leaving, Arthur. I'm ah, moving to Canada. Seeing John and Abigail together…it's something I want to experience as well. I think my best chance is up there."

Arthur felt his heart clench. "I understand."

"Will you help him? John?"

"I can't," Arthur admitted heavily. "Charles…Ross came to see me. He made it clear what would happen to your tribe if I tried to interfere in their affairs in any way. I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier."

Charles said nothing for a moment. "Well, it's admirable you want to look after my people," he finally said. "But the thing is, I've come to know you pretty well, Arthur Morgan. You can claim to be a ghost all you want. But in the end, people like you hate being tied up for long." He took a drag. "Especially by someone like Ross."

"Maybe," Arthur sighed and whistled for his horse. "Whelp, I better get home before John and Abigale do…whatever it is married couples do. I don't really want to hear any of that."

Charles laughed. "I'll keep a close perimeter around the ranch. They deserve their night of peace."

There was a pause, and Arthur hugged him. "I owe you more than I can repay, brother."

"Promise me you'll look after them," Charles said, returning the hug. "Then our account is settled."

Arthur nodded, and got up on his horse.

"And don't worry about my people," Charles added. "They know how to look after themselves."

PART FOUR

Arthur paid close attention to the news, and none of it was good. Shortly afterwards, John Marston was leading a joint effort with the Pinkertons to hunt Bill Williamson, famed outlaw and noted bounty hunter. Then he moved down to Mexico, to hunt down Javier.

"This isn't good news?" the elder asked one day, watching Arthur as he studied the newspaper.

"No," Arthur muttered. "Not good at all." He glanced up, sharply. "Forget it, Chief. It's nothing."

"Of course," the elder agreed. "Join me for supper tonight, Mister Morgan. I desire your company."

That night they had a pleasant evening, where they chatted and laughed.

"So. I see that Aiyana has eyes for you," the chief said, handing him some tea. "She has asked me what the customary way would be to 'ask you out' among civilized people."

"Oh geez," Arthur laughed, drinking the tea. "I thought you were going to tell her to stop chasing after me?"

"Aiyana is very determined. Especially if she sees something she likes," the elder said.

"But you're the chief," Arthur said.

"That means little when love is in the way," the elder said with a smile. "And what about you, Arthur? What do you want?"

"I want…" Suddenly Arthur's vision swam. "I ah….sorry, Chief. I must be more tired than I thought…"

"I understand," the elder said, gently helping him lay down. "Why don't you sleep here tonight?"

"Yeah…" Arthur whispered as the world faded to black. "Sounds good."

PART FIVE

The next morning Arthur woke up in a bedroll, utterly confused. "Wha…? Huh?"

The entire Wapiti camp was gone. Swearing, he got up and looked around frantically for his guns. Had they been attacked?

Arthur spotted his possessions next to a nearby tree. His gun holster had been slung over a branch. A letter was stabbed into the tree as well. He tore it off and quickly read.

_Mister Morgan,_

_My apologies for this deception. I did not think you would agree to this willingly, so I added a few extra ingredients in your tea last night. Forgive me. _

_Charles saw me a few months ago, and I remember your conversation with Ross. You have unfinished business to attend to. You may say otherwise, but I know better. I see it on your face every time you read the papers. I see now that we are holding you back from your obligations. So, I am releasing you from that responsibility. _

_Aiyana and a few others were very upset, but I made them understand. You will not find us, but we will be keeping an eye on things. After your other business is settled, you will find us again. _

_It is time to step out of the shadows, Mister Morgan, and return back to the land of the living. _

_I hope to see you again._

_Chief_

Arthur glanced at his guns, and Charles' voice echoed in his head. "_You can claim to be a ghost all you want. But in the end, people like you hate being tied up for long. Especially by someone like Ross." _

Arthur took out his gun and aimed it at a nearby bottle on the other side of the empty camp. For the first time in years, Arthur pulled the trigger.

The glass exploded.

Satisfied, Arthur put his gun away, and whistled for his horse.

It was time to see Dutch.

TBC


	4. Last chance at Redemption

A few days later Arthur travelled fast on horseback towards Cochinay. He had to hand it to Dutch-he knew how to pick out a hideout. It was a stronghold in the mountains. Nothing short of an army would be able to get in. Not that Arthur tried to break in. He simply rode up to the front of the gate.

After figuring out where Dutch was (through very shady means) he figured he would have a few days ahead of John. But he underestimated the man, and he was turning out to be one hell of a bounty hunter. He and Dutch had already faced off at the Blackwater Bank. Arthur knew it would only be a matter of time before John figured out where Dutch's hideout was. He needed to move fast.

A gunshot fired nearby. "Stop!" a voice called out. "Turn back now!"

Arthur looked up. As he suspected, a Native American. They all were. His heart sank. Of course Dutch had found yet another tribe to latch onto and stir them up. _"_My name is Arthur Morgan," he called out. "Tell Dutch I would like a word with him."

Roughly thirty seconds later the gate opened, and twenty men stepped out, aiming their guns as Arthur casually got off his horse. Two men searched him, disarmed him, and tied him up. He was then shoved forwards, inside and then up the stairs to where Dutch was waiting.

For the first time in years, both men stared at each other. At one point, they even called each other father and son. Dutch had lost weight over the years. Where there was once gentleness and passion in his eyes, now there was only cruelty.

"Hello, Dutch," Arthur said. "Looks like you haven't lost your sense of paranoia over the years."

"Hello, Arthur," Dutch returned. "You're alive. Micah lied to me."

"Yes," Arthur agreed. "About a great many things."

There was a moment of silence.

"I realized that, at the end," Dutch admitted, staring at his scars. "Time has not been kind to you."

"Or to you," Arthur said. "I've been reading the news, Dutch. Killing an innocent woman in cold blood? Using Native Americans to your advantage? Is that how you want history to remember you?"

"You're still appealing to my conscience, Arthur? After all this time?" Dutch asked.

"No, I suppose not." Arthur said, stepping forwards. "Oh, Dutch. We both had the world, you and I. We ran free. We lived with the highest elite in St. Dennis. We were both deputies. I even rode in a hot air balloon, of all things. You rode in an automobile. We had everything, and we both threw it all away. More than anything, we had family. And were loved."

"I suppose we did. Now look at us," Dutch said. "You know John is coming to kill me."

"Yes," Arthur sighed heavily. "I do."

"He killed Bill and Javier."

"They became bad men."

"And you think that's me?" Dutch asked.

Arthur looked up at him. "Perhaps. That depends. You could ride with me, Dutch. Give up all this."

"Or I could use you as bait against John. You might be worth more to him than even that whore Abigail."

"The fact that you call her that tells me the state of mind you're in, Dutch," Arthur said.

Dutch took out his gun. "So what exactly should I _do_ with you, Arthur?" he asked, pointing it casually at him. "Will you help John kill me?"

"No," Arthur said. "But neither will I help you kill him."

"Then why are you here?"

"The Pinkertons are the real threat here, not John. They have his family, Dutch. You know this. I just thought…maybe there's a solution that doesn't involve you two idiots killing each other. You're my family, Dutch, even still. There was a time when we all laughed at the Pinkertons. Together, all three of us can beat them. End this feud. Help me find John's family again. And maybe we can all live in peace."

Dutch considered that. He walked over to the wall, and glanced down at his troops. 'I can't do that, Arthur. Things have gone too far for that."

"Then do what you want with me. I've said what I've come here to say," Arthur said.

Dutch gave him a shrewd look, and for a moment Arthur could see the layers of insanity in his eyes. Then abruptly it was gone, and Dutch laughed. "Well since you're here, Arthur," he said mockingly, putting away his gun. "Why don't you stay for dinner?"

PART TWO

The two of them talked as the sun set. Not as enemies, but as friends.

Both of them remembered past victories and past friends. Arthur talked about the wedding. They both speculated where current gang members might be.

"I can't believe you of all people would use a frigging automobile!" Arthur said.

"It was almost impossible to drive!" Dutch choked. "I wanted to keep go left…it kept turning right! Never again, Arthur, I swear."

Arthur laughed.

"And little John is coming to kill me." Dutch's face sobered, as though realizing this for the first time. 'He's trying to kill me, Arthur."

"Then stop this," Arthur said. "Just give up, Dutch."

Dutch said nothing, and some of his familiar insanity returned. "Remember all those times you insisted John wasn't a traitor? You called me a fool. Well who's the fool now?"

Arthur sighed. "That was before you became insane, Dutch."

"All those times he was whispering in camp." Dutch glared at him. "All the times _you_ were. After everything I had done for you both, you just gave me rebellion and backtalk. If I'm insane, it's because you both drove me to it."

Dutch was fully lost again to madness. "Have you decided whether or not you're going to kill me?" Arthur said simply.

"I'll sleep on it," Dutch sneered, and gestured at one of the Native Americans to take him away.

"And you're wrong. I gave you everything, Dutch. I did," Arthur said. "Now look at us."

He didn't see Dutch's expression, but it was as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on him.

PART THREE

_Rise and shine, cowpoke," Micah said mockingly in his sleep. ""Time to have some fun."_

"Arthur!"

Arthur's eyes cracked open. It was daylight at the stronghold. He was laying in a bed of straw. Dutch was poking him. He seemed concerned.

"Get up," he ordered. Without another word he walked up the stairwell.

Puzzled, Arthur followed him outside. Past the wall he could see the army approaching. "They're almost here."

"Yes," Dutch agreed. For the first time since Arthur had seen him, his eyes were clear. "Did you know I grieved for you, Arthur? It took some doing, but I found your grave. I stayed there for hours. Weeping and begging your forgiveness."

Arthur shrugged, trying to pretend that didn't bother him. "It was another man in that grave, Dutch."

"Yes," Dutch turned around. "And I realize now, for the first time, my son is back." He stepped forwards and in one motion cut the ropes around his hands. He handed him back his gun. "Abigail and Jack are being held in the Van Horn trading post. The Pinkertons...they're worms. You know this. I know this. They pretend to value society…but in the end they are cowards, and will stab John in the back once they're through with him. Save them, because I can't."

"Dutch," Arthur pleaded. "Please don't do this."

"I have too, son. This is the way things must end. Forgive me." Dutch hugged him. "Take the back tunnels. Less chance of you running into anyone that way."

"Dutch!" John screamed. "Get out here!"

Dutch smiled slightly. "And now it's time to play my part. Goodbye, my son. Whatever happens, don't look."

Arthur nodded, and left. In the end, though, he broke his promise. He escaped through the tunnels, and once he was a safe distance away, looked through the binoculars.

He could see Dutch falling off a cliff. And hitting the ground hard. He snapped his gaze away and couldn't help but sob. "Goodbye Dutch."

He was running fast out of time. He turned around and rose fast for Van Horn.

He needed to save John's family.

TBC


	5. Unexpected friends

FOUR YEARS AGO

"Rise and shine, cowpoke…time for us to have some fun."

Arthur's eyes snapped open. He was in his small, makeshift cell. The familiar smell of blood was overwhelming. After so many weeks in the Murfree camp, he should have been used to it by now. But he wasn't.

Micah was standing over him. No doubt wanting to gloat. Arthur was sorely tempted to attack him. But seeing as the Murfree Folk had beaten him within an inch of his life yesterday, that seemed unlikely to go far. Instead he settled into a more comfortable position as he sat up. "Hello, Micah. Nice of you to drop by."

"Well, what are friends for?" Micah said mockingly, leaning against the wall. "How are the Murfree folk treating you? Looks like they've been rough."

"I hardly feel it," Arthur said sarcastically.

"Truth be told, I was in the area anyway. Oh, you should see the caper we have planned. It's a big score," he grinned, drinking from a canteen. "I would give your regards, but, whoops, Dutch thinks you're dead. So does everyone else, in fact. Don't worry, I'll get around to telling them. Eventually." He hesitated, and handed Arthur the canteen.

Arthur took it and drank. Whiskey. He had never tasted anything so incredible.

"You were always a stick in the mud, Arthur, even at your best. Now that you and Hosea are gone from the camp, things are much more fun. No more backtalk. No more betrayals. And you'd be surprised what Dutch has agreed to do." He grinned. "We've accomplished a lot now that the ''Dutch Van Der Linde' code is gone. We're just murderers and thieves now. We can't afford to be soft, Morgan. Not in this 'civilized world.'"

Arthur's hands shook very slightly as Micah spoke. "Why are you here, Micah?"

"Wellll I do have one little problem. One little annoying detail to take care of," Micah said playfully. "Dutch knows you're gone, but John is still alive. And we both know how much Dutch likes to obsess over these things. Some nights, it's all he talks about. So I'd like to ease his mind." Micah folded his arms. "Where is he, Arthur?"

"I don't know, Micah," Arthur gave him a completely innocent look. "Do you think he might be in the Murfree camp? That's all I see nowadays."

Micah laughed.

Then he punched Arthur in the head. Arthur felt his ears ring as his head slammed against the wall.

"Oh Arthur, I could never get tired of punching you," Micah said, taking out his gun. "I have to admit though, I never understood one thing about you. I always got the misguided sense of morality, Your annoying sense of self-righteousness. But you were greedy, just like the rest of us. You had a chance to get the Blackwater gold. But you threw it all away to save John Marston, of all people. Why protect that little snake?"

Arthur coughed. "He has a family. A chance for something better. I doubt either of us will have it."

Micah laughed. "So you really did it for Abigail the whore and her little spawn? Rumor has it that she had her way with most of the camp before she settled her sights on Marston. For all you know, Jack could be yours. Or Dutch. Or even that fat idiot Pearson."

Arthur sat up. "I don't know. But we raised him. He's part of all of us."

Micah frowned. "Protecting Marston brought you here, cowpoke. It does you no good. In fact it just might kill you." He aimed his gun at Arthur's head. "Where did you send him?"

"Sorry," Arthur said. "Don't remember. So good ahead and shoot."

Micah considered, and put away his gun. "You know what I think? I think the Murfree Folk have been going too easy on you. I'll be sure to let them know. And as fun as it is to beat the shit out of you, I do have things to do." He headed out of the tunnel. 'We'll try this again in a few months. When you've had more of a chance to sample the Murfree's hospitality. See you, Morgan."

Arthur sighed. "See you, Micah."

PART TWO

NOW

Van Horn seemed to be a key place in Arthur's life.

It was supposed to be just a small fishing town filled with the usual criminal elements. But it was also the first place he arrived at after escaping Guarma. It was where he found and helped Mrs. Downes. It was the same place he found Abigail and shot Agent Miller.

Now he was rescuing her from Pinkertons again.

It was getting dark as he approached the town. There was no jail in Van Horn. So, it was safe to assume that Abigail was held in the same place as last time. Unlike most places, the inn was next door to the saloon, and not part of the building itself. Arthur dismounted and moved stealthily towards the building. He could definitely see Pinkertons walking around.

"Be ready to move Mrs. Marston and her son tonight. As soon as we hear from Ross, we're leaving."

"Shouldn't we just keep her here? We're just going to shoot up the ranch, anyway."

The first Pinkerton grunted. "Ross is going to need a few extra days to bring in some guns. Normally he would bring in the army, but they seem caught up in something up north. Folks seem to be acting kind of strange up there. Anyway, Ross figures that Marston has earned himself a few days of peace. Before we put him in the ground for good."

Arthur waited until they passed by. The front of the building was pretty well guarded, but there was only one man near the back, smoking a cigarette. Arthur hit him with the back of his gun, knocking him out. He then tossed him over the side into the water. He took up position behind the building. The sound of frantic splashing made the other Pinkertons run to the docks. Arthur shot them in the back with no remorse. That done, he entered through the back door.

Abigail was sitting in the middle of the room, tied and blindfolded to a chair. Jack was sleeping in a small cot in the corner. There was only one Pinkerton inside. He reached for his gun. Arthur was far quicker, and shot him in the chest. It was good to see that his instincts hadn't failed him after so long. He stepped forwards. "Abigaiil, it's me. It's Arthur," he said, quickly untying her and removing the blindfold.

Abigail looked at him.

Then she slapped him as hard as she could.

"Ow! What in God's name-" Arthur snapped.

"Just what the hell are you doing , Arthur Morgan? John was cooperating with the Pinkertons! They was going to give us all our freedom tomorrow! Then you strolled in here and shoot this place up like some no-good outlaw-" Abigail shouted, continuing to try and slap him.

"No, they ain't!" Arthur snapped back. Suddenly a whistle sounded in the distance. "We need to get out of here. We'll talk about this later."

"Uh-uh. No way." Abigail shook her head and folded her arms. "We're staying right here and honoring the deal."

Arthur paused. "All right, Mrs. Marston. You leave me no choice." In one swift move, he bent down, grabbed her by the legs and placed her over his shoulder.

"What the-? Arthur Morgan, you put me down this instant!" Abigail snapped, pounding her fists against his back.

"Jack!" Arthur snapped. "Come on!"

"Yes sir," Jack stammered.

They exited the inn. "Can you ride a horse?" Arthur shouted over the noise of Abigail, who was currently swearing a blue streak that was certainly unbecoming of a rancher's wife. "I don't think mine can handle both you and the firestorm of your mother."

"I can. Pa showed me."

"Good. We're going to need to ride pretty hard back to your ranch. Now, Abigail, would you-would you shut up!" Arthur finally snapped over the noise.

Abigail finally went silent.

"Good. I don't want to hogtie you to this horse, but so help me I will if you keep fighting me," Arthur said, setting her on the saddle.

"We had a plan, Morgan," Abigail said sulkily.

"Well, it was a stupid plan," Arthur said, lifting himself up in the saddle behind her. Jack located a nearby horse and got on. "Let's go!" he shouted at the horse as bullets whizzed past them.

"I heard them talking, Mrs. Marston," Arthur continued. "They were planning to shoot up the ranch as soon as John came back."

"I don't…I don't believe that! They are civilized men!" Abigail shouted as Arthur fired back at the riding Pinkertons.

"Who, last I checked, tied you to a chair twice! What exactly about this is so hard to under-"

A shot came out of nowhere and hit the middle of his horse. Both Arthur and Abigail went flying as the horse lurched forwards. "Goddam bastards!" Arthur shouted, shooting the two remaining Pinkertons. He couldn't see any more. He shot his horse in the head, ending his misery.

"Well, now what?" Abigail demanded as Jack rode up.

"We need to find another horse somewhere." They were now in the middle of nowhere, but time was running out. The horses carrying the Pinkertons had already bolted. He whistled once, trying to attract one.

"I doubt that is going to do anything-" Abigail said as suddenly a horse responded behind them, seemingly out of nowhere.

But not just any horse. It was a white Arabian horse, and it was massive.

"Is that…who I think it is?" Abigail asked.

Arthur recognized it too. He had seen it often enough times. "This is Dutch's horse," Arthur breathed in astonishment. "He must have followed me out of Cochinay." He stepped forwards.

"Arthur..be careful. I remember that thing had a temper. He wouldn't let anyone else but Dutch ride him!" Abigail warned.

"Easy boy," Arthur soothed, touching the horse's nose. "I thought you had died from old age by now. I guess the world isn't done with either of us yet."

The Count lowered his mane and licked Arthur. Arthur swallowed and possibly taking his life into his hands, lifted himself into the saddle. He offered his hand to Abigail. "He'll let us ride him this time."

"Okay," Abigail said nervously. "So what's the plan?"

"I drop you and Jack somewhere safe, then look for John."

"No," Abigail said. "No way. I can shoot. So can the boy. These bastards intend to take my home and my husband, then I am sure as hell going to defend it. Besides, you need all the help you can get."

Arthur sighed. "I know better to argue with you, Mrs. Marston." His eyes hardened. "All right. Let's go save this idiot."

TBC


	6. The price of family

FOUR YEARS AGO

After a few days of his rescue from the Murfree Folk, Arthur finally felt well enough to emerge from the Wapiti tent. Fresh air. Freedom. It was a beautiful thing, and one that he didn't want to ever lose again.

He took a walk around the camp, and finally stopped at a small firing range just outside the camp. He slowly pulled out his gun and fired straight into the bull's eye with deadly accuracy.

His other hand was a completely different story, however. The Murfree folk had taken great glee out of crushing every single finger with a hammer, then burning a nd killing some of his nerves. The fingers had healed…somewhat. But without any protection, they had healed out of place. He could move them a little. He supposed a high-paying doctor in St. Denis might be able to do something, but that would involve showing his face and alerting the Pinkertons.

"Good morning, Mister Morgan," the elder said, walking up to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Thanks," Arthur said, leaning against the wooden railing. "Didn't see Charles around."

The Chief grunted. "He left early this morning. He tends to wander. Sometimes we don't see him again for weeks. It was quite a surprise, seeing you on his horse last time. Charles was very insistent that we help. Not that that we wouldn't have."

"I have no doubt," Arthur said with a smile. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Something bothering you, Mister Morgan?"

"Do you think I'm a coward, Chief? For not pursuing Micah?"

The Chief hesitated. "I think you've learned that not every problem can be solved with blood," he said carefully. "The question is, do you believe him? Is your spirit broken?"

"A little, maybe. But not fully," Arthur admitted. "It wasn't Micah that did it, though. Or the Murfree folk. It was losing everything I have. My own family." He was silent, watching the sun set. "I just…I want to live, Chief. I want to start over with a clean slate. And I know it won't end with just Micah if I start something. Charles will end up slaughtering all of our former 'brothers' if he's not careful. Micah. Bill. John. Dutch."

"I understand. Family is indeed a powerful force. They can bring such joy…and such everlasting sorrow. They sacrifice for each other. Perhaps you will find another, one day."

"Well trust me," Arthur said. "I'm in no hurry for that."

PART TWO

NOW

The Count barreled through the forest, with no sign of slowing down or stopping. Arthur and Abigail were just barely able to hang on.

"Do you see Jack?" Abigail asked.

Arthur turned around. Jack was trying valiantly to catch up. "Barely," he said.

"We should try and find Sadie! Maybe she can help us!" Abigail shouted over the noise.

"No time!" Arthur shouted back. "She and Charles have moved and are god-knows-where. This is all going to end tonight." They were nearing Blackwater. "Last chance to change your mind, Mrs Marston!" he said.

"No way!" Abigail gripped him tighter. "We're not sitting this one out, Arthur!"

"All right."

If possible, the Count flew even faster.

PART THREE

The ranch was eerily quiet.

"Jack!?" John shouted, looking around. "Abigail?"

The door to his home opened. John automatically placed a hand on his gun and released a sigh as he saw Uncle.

"John!" Uncle smiled at him. "You're home!"

"Where's my family, old man?" John demanded.

"I didn't-" Suddenly, his chest exploded in red as a bullet ran through him. John swore and turned around. Ross and the Pinkertons were at his gate. Dozens of men. "You lying scum!" he swore, taking cover by the side of his house. "I gave you what you wanted!"

PART FOUR

Arthur and Abigail stopped near the ranch. Arthur could see thirty men converging on John. He stopped. "We may very lose our lives tonight, Mrs Marston," he said.

"Then I'll race you straight to hell, Mister Morgan," Abigail said, taking out her gun. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Come on, git!" Arthur snapped at the Count, who whined. The Count raced into the ranch and plowed straight through the men, with Abigail and Arthur firing.

"Leave my pa alone!" Jack screamed, shooting into the crowd.

The men scattered temporarily at the unexpected intrusion. But it wouldn't be for long.

Arthur jumped off the horse as they recovered. "Find a safe ridge and cover us. Go!" he slapped the rump of the horse and watched as she and Jack took off. He ran towards the house, ducking as bullets fired back at him.

"What in god's name are you doing, Arthur?" John asked as Arthur joined him.

"Saving your ass from your own stupidity, as usual!" Arthur snapped as both men fired. "The Pinkertons had no intention of honoring your deal! You should have known better, John!"

"It's a bit late now for a lecture!" John snapped. "They shot Uncle."

"Jesus," Arthur whispered, aiming and shooting another in the head.

"Is this all you brought?" John asked sarcastically. "There are about thirty men out there, Arthur!"

"Are you underestimating your wife, John?" Arthur retorted.

"_Why in God's name did you bring my wife?" _John screamed.

"She um, kind of insisted," Arthur said, a bit sheepishly. He drew back and cursed as a bullet exploded into the wall. "Is there anything that can help us?"

"I have a few more guns in the barn," John said.

Arthur glanced at it. "Okay. It's a good a plan as anything else. Question is, how do we get to it?"

"Here," John took out a strange device. "A little something a brought back from Mexico. It's an explosive. Get ready to run."

John threw the device, and for a second Arthur could see nothing but dirt and fire.

"Come on, go!" John shouted. Arthur ran after him. To his right he could see that Abigail and Jack had taken cover behind the outhouse and were providing covering fire.

Both men entered the barn. John opened up a chest and took out a shotgun. "All right, now what?"

"You head out through the back of the barn. Meet up with your wife and son. Find the horses and get out of here. I'll draw their fire. Give you time to escape."

"No!" John snapped, stepping forwards. "Dammit, Arthur, you are not sacrificing your life for mine again!"

"I'm doing no such thing!" Arthur snapped. "Trust me, I have a plan!"

John shook his head. "You better not be lying to me." He escaped out the back.

It was eerily quiet. Arthur walked forwards and slowly opened the barn door a creak.

At least eight men were waiting outside. Waiting to kill whoever opened the door next.

"Protecting Marston brought you here, cowpoke," Micah said smugly from the corner of the barn. "It does you no good. In fact it just might kill you."

Arthur glanced to the right. Of course, Micah had disappeared.

A slow breath exited his lungs. Then, he slammed open the barn doors as hard as he could and reached for his gun.

To his credit, he almost made it. He shot and killed seven men. But somehow, Ross avoided his bullet by stepping behind someone else, and fired once. Arthur jerked as the bullet entered his body, followed by blinding pain. He fell backwards, almost in too much shock to move.

"Oh, Mister Morgan," Ross said, calmly entering the barn with his gun drawn. "I see you continue to remain a disappointment."

Arthur was barely conscious. He tried to reach for his gun on the side. Ross stomped on his good hand, then shot it clean through. Arthur screamed in pain.

"Guess your shooting days are done," Ross said. "Don't worry. It won't hurt for long. Be sure to give my regards to the Van Der Linde gang in hell and tell them to expect a few more soon." He aimed his gun at Arthur's head. "Well, Mister Morgan, I guess it's time for you to answer for your crimes."

There was a sudden click behind Ross' head.

"You first," John said.

John pulled the trigger to the shotgun. Ross' head exploded in red. More men appeared behind him.

"Shit!" John swore, aiming his gun and firing.

"John…" Arthur whispered as everything faded to black.

He had given everything he had. The rest was up to him.

PART FOUR

The sound of singing made Arthur stir. "Javier?" he whispered in astonishment. He opened his eyes.

And found himself laying in his own cot, at the camp just outside Valentine. Javier was near the fire, singing. Hosea was reading a book.

"Good morning, Arthur," Dutch greeted, holding a cup of coffee. "How'd you sleep?"

Arthur looked at his hands. They were completely healed. He chuckled. "Something always told me you would be the first person to meet me, Dutch."

"Well, I was never too far away, Arthur," Dutch said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I suppose not." Arthur stood and took the offered coffee. "So what's the plan today, Boss?"

"I figure we stay here for a few days, earn some money. Get back on our feet. But, you don't need me to tell you what to do anymore. Look at you. All grown up," Dutch smiled.

They walked to the edge of the camp. Arthur studied the valley. "Micah isn't here, is he?"

"He's at the jail in Strawberry. You know that. Are you going to break him out?"

"Maybe, but…no, I don't think so.'

"I understand," Dutch said. "That's probably best for everyone."

Arthur glanced behind him, and smiled at the gang. "It's real beautiful here, Dutch. I could stay here forever."

'Maybe you will. One day."

Arthur frowned. "What?"

"I'm sorry, son, but you're not dead. The world isn't done with you yet. John is saving you right now."

"That dumb idiot," Arthur sighed. "I got no more hands, Dutch. I'm no use to anyone."

"You think my shooting hands inspired all these people to come together?" Dutch said. "Dark days are coming my friend, and they will need your help. You still have a use, Arthur, and you still have a life to live. If there is one gift I could ever give you, it's that."

"Dutch-" Arthur said, and turned around.

The camp was empty.

PART FIVE

"You awake yet, Arthur?" John called out amongst the darkness.

Arthur groaned as he opened his eyes. He was in a bed, back on the ranch.

"Oh, quit your whining. You weren't shot _that_ badly," John snapped. "Clear wound to your side. In and out. All you needed was blood." He removed the line from both their arms.

"You…should have left…" Arthur said.

"Well I was about to. And then I realize that I actually didn't trust you, Arthur. Turns out you were going to do something stupid after all."

"How did you get out of that?"

John sighed. "Well as it turns out, some of your friends showed up."

The door opened, and the Chief entered with a smiling Abigail. "Hello, Mister Morgan. I told you that we were keeping a close eye on things."

"For crying out loud, call me Arthur," Arthur said, and looked at his bandaged hands. "Thank you."

"No thanks are needed. We're family."

PART SIX

With a great deal of difficulty, the Native Americans helped Arthur onto the saddle of a horse. "Keep the Count. With my blessings."

"Are you going to be all right?" John asked.

"We'll look after him," the Chief said.

"What about you?" Arthur asked.

"What about us?" John returned.

"You should burn down the ranch and get away from here as far as you can. Pretend to be dead."

"Take a page from your book? No, that's not us," John said, shaking his head. "We put everything we have into this home. The Pinkertons are done. And if they ever rebuild, they know we have some powerful friends."

"All right. Hopefully not too soon. Give me a day or two to rest before I have to save you again."

John laughed. "Your saving days are over, Arthur. Things should be much quieter from now on. Goodbye old friend."

Arthur nodded and rode with the rest of the tribe. It wasn't easy to grip the reins, but he did the best he could with his broken hand.

"You'll like our new spot, Arthur," the Chief said. "It's in a beautiful place. Well hidden."

"That sounds nice, Chief," Arthur said. "Real nice."

"So. We should plan for your date. Aiyana has been asking about you."

"Not this again…"

The two chatted happily into the sunset.

EPILOGUE

"Never thought I had to do this again," John muttered, adding another dead Pinkerton into the cart. He wasn't sure where to put the bodies-maybe give them to the Skinner gang as a peace offering. But for now he just wanted them gone. He paused.

Was one of them still moving? He thought he saw a finger twitch. He stared at it, before shaking his head. Nah, it was just his imagination.

"Thank you," Abigail said, gripping Jack tightly.

"For what?" John asked.

"You could have followed Arthur's plan. You didn't."

"This is my home, Abigail." He kissed her. "And you are my family."

Abigail sighed. "I'm just sorry those bastards killed Uncle."

"Yeah." He walked over to Uncle's grave. It was the first thing he did right after saving Arthur. He touched the ground. "I'll make some kind of marker tomorrow. Good bye, Uncle. You were a stupid old drunk, but I will miss you."

Abigail touched his shoulder. "Come on. I'll put some supper on."

The two left to go towards the house, completely unaware that a curse was seeping into the ground, one that would change everything. One where the dead came back to life.

And that Uncle was also coming to dinner.

THE END


End file.
